


Wrecker in the Wild

by sexywiddlebaby



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Camping, Fluff and Humor, Forests, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexywiddlebaby/pseuds/sexywiddlebaby
Summary: Ohm leads Tyler into the forest for a day with him. Tyler's potential crush evolves into something more pronounced when he falls over unexpectedly.Mature for mentions of 'hard things' and whatnot.[026]





	Wrecker in the Wild

**Author's Note:**

> There was going to be smut at the end, but I felt like it didn't need it after all.
> 
> I will write these guys properly at it one day. Probably.
> 
> And yes, I did make myself laugh with my own title.

“How much further?”

“You sound like a kid, you know that?”

Tyler huffed. The backpack—weighed down with all sorts of clothing, food and navigation trinkets—felt as if it were cutting into his shoulders. He and Ohm had been walking through what Tyler imagined to be an endless forest; they had set off from a parking lot early in the morning and hadn’t stopped (even though Tyler had insisted his legs were about to fall off seven different times).

Their conversation had worn thin along with the daylight as Tyler steadily got more annoyed with Ohm. It wasn’t Ohm’s fault–after all, Tyler did agree to carrying the bulk of their things–but his hands were clammy, his biceps were screaming, and his knees were creaking. He could only manage to complain.

What also didn’t help was Tyler’s pent up hormones. Apart from late-night calls online, Tyler hadn’t been confronted with Ohm’s physical appearance before, and he didn’t count those because he wasn’t allowed to see below the neck. He was pretty sure he was joking when he had flirted with Ohm in the past, and the rational part of his brain driving him forward said this was nothing more than curiosity. Sure. His constant half-chub was a natural part of the stress.

As he reminisced about being at home in the warmth, Tyler’s foot caught on the edge of a twisted root, and he was so tired that he didn’t even fight for his balance. He landed on his side with a dull _boom_. Ohm’s footsteps hurried. Tyler became aware of another presence standing over him in seconds, and blinked blearily up towards him. He peeled his face from the floor and brought a layer of mud foundation with it.

Ohm cracked a smile when he crouched to meet Tyler’s eye-line. “Hey, it suits you! You should wear makeup more often!”

Tyler was summoning the strength to strangle him. He mumbled: “Fuck off, Dad.”

Ohm raised an eyebrow on reflex. “Dad, huh?”

_Shit._

“I said _pal_ ,” Tyler spoke urgently. “Don’t beat off to your terrible hearing.”

Ohm’s eyes burned into Tyler’s. “You definitely said _dad_.”

Tyler thought so hard for an escape that time slowed to a crawl: every bead of sweat that ran over his skin seemed to last a marathon and they’re all in last place. Ohm was not allowed that information. During the panic, his erection peaked and was painfully sandwiched between his thighs and boxer shorts.

“Do you see me as a father figure, Tyler?”

Tyler hated how giddy Ohm sounded. God, he would have snapped Ohm’s head right off right there and then if he had had the willpower. Unfortunately, all his blood had rushed to somewhere inconvenient.

Ohm leaned in and threatened Tyler’s personal space. “Or..” he said with a sultry tone, “do you see me as your _daddy_?”

Tyler choked violently on that word. Medusa was real. She had been reincarnated in Ohm exactly for this moment. He disconnected from his sense of vision and let his eyes drink in Ohm’s risqué expression. What a fucking asshole.

“N…No…?” Tyler said airily.

Leaves twirled and floated in the soft, warm breeze surrounding them. A few drifted between their eye contact and rested on the ground. Dust and dirt slid in the air as if they were wiping down stained glass.

Tyler’s gaze flickered around Ohm’s face carefully. It studied his face like a gripping novel: Ohm’s tidy beard decorated his square jawline; his nose rose and fell at a smooth incline and ended at a soft button; his skin was marked with scars of bygone years and countless untold struggles; his eyebrows hugged his features into a face of a dearly loved friend…

Was this naive infatuation, or was it honest love?

Ohm extended a hand, missing Tyler’s; instead Ohm’s fingers curled around Tyler’s ear and his palm settled on Tyler’s flushed cheek. Ohm rubbed Tyler’s ear gently and a look of promise spread across his face.

“I was just joking on the last bit,” Ohm whispered, “but…you do look cute when you get flustered.”

“I’m not meant to be cute,” Tyler said in a small voice.

The freshly laid leaves crunched under Ohm’s movement as he suddenly rolled Tyler onto his back (which was not the most comfortable position for Tyler, given the rucksack). Thankfully, it gave relief to his throbbing problem…although it happened to pitch like a tent instead.

“You’re sure?” Ohm asked as he knelt over Tyler, pinning his lower body into the earth. “You’re pretty good at it.”

Tyler tried to protest, but Ohm’s hand was there at the special spot of his ear again, and it soothed him. Inadvertently, Tyler’s mouth hung open, which gave him an artless expression of content. Ohm adjusted his weight to his forearms, which allowed him use of his second hand–he swept it through Tyler’s mussed and dirtied hair and styled it flat–and then brought his fingers to Tyler’s lips.

“How good are cute boys at sucking dick?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Tyler said with a raspy voice, “have you asked yourself recently?”

Ohm giggled at Tyler’s newfound confidence. “I don’t take, I give.”

“Give me some room then, Jesus.”

Ohm tapped Tyler’s nose with his finger, dusted himself off, and then resumed walking down the path in front of them. It was rather robotic–like Tyler had commanded him away at the click of a mouse. His touch was gone. Tyler felt emotionally cold.

“Wait up, dick!”

“Hey, I thought you wanted space,” Ohm said as Tyler jogged past him. “ _This_ isn’t my definition of space.”

Taller than Ohm by several inches, Tyler looked down at him as he stopped. Tyler swiped his hand behind Ohm’s head and brought him into a reckless kiss, totally missing Ohm’s bottom lip at first (fortunately Ohm tilted his head to correct it), and his other hand quickly supported the small of Ohm’s back.

Mud spread between their faces from Tyler’s incident and Ohm grinned. Tyler’s beard was much softer and matted compared to his (blame the repeated shaving from Ohm) and the mud congealed around their chins like warm glue. The quiet night felt like it closed around them and concealed them in their own little world.

Ohm groaned into Tyler as Tyler pushed him in closer, their crotches numb to the sensory overload of the kiss, and Ohm rose to his tiptoes to try changing the angle. Tyler allowed it and sensed Ohm take control, parting their lips briefly and laughing into the immediate next kiss. Tyler’s hand crawled further down to hitch on Ohm’s waistband, and still concentrating on Ohm, he secured his pointer finger in a group of empty belt loops.

“Whoa there tiger,” Ohm said after breaking away. “We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

Tyler couldn’t help but notice Ohm’s prolonged glance at his junk when they agreed to find somewhere to shelter first. They held hands for the rest of the journey there–and Ohm saved his ass from another one of those damned branches. Ohm and Tyler exchanged several smirks with chuckles, trying to catch each other out on who was really staring the longest. Only then did Tyler’s luggage feel weightless.

Eventually, they reached a clearing. The sun had plummeted below the horizon, and there was a soft, pale moonlight pouring over the glade. Ohm had scrubbed most of the mess off his face by hand, and sat down with sore legs. Tyler ruffled Ohm’s hair as he passed by and dropped his rucksack.

“We should start a fire, huh?”

“No, actually,” Tyler said, “I would prefer to freeze to death in the night.”

Ohm got to his feet after a wobble and some internal curses, and proceeded to scout the area for any fire material. On the other hand, Tyler began to unload the tent equipment from his bag: six wooden pegs, a small mallet, and a large tarpaulin with cartoon bears tessellating all over it.

By the time Ohm had returned with bundles of firewood, Tyler had managed to create a disaster scene. He was trapped under the tarp, struggling to find the next peg (all of them were on the other side), and his backpack had spilled everywhere in the frantic searching. Ohm sighed and assembled a quaint fire whilst he decided whether or not to help poor Tyler out.

His dilemma resolved itself when Tyler ceased all movement after making absolutely no progress. Ohm rushed to peel the tarpaulin away to see Tyler’s mischievous grin.

“Gotcha!”

Tyler laughed almost manically to himself as Ohm’s distress dissolved into pique.

“Next time, I won’t check,” Ohm said nonplussed. He threw the tarp back over Tyler and attempted to strike a flame for their fire.

* * *

 

An hour later, when the darkness had fully ingurgitated their spot, Tyler and Ohm had successfully constructed their tent and a warm fireplace, and they were deciding on which of the tinned foods to crack into.

“You a spam fan?” Tyler asked, wiggling the can at Ohm.

“Ahah, not really. I swear I packed some soup in there.”

“Hmm, well my investigation has found no such thing in the bag. Only cans upon cans upon cans of spam.”

Ohm paused. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Deadly.”

Ohm narrowed his amicable gaze, reminding Tyler of how hot his cheeks were when Ohm touched his ears for the first time, and he felt himself being shoved away from the bag. Ohm rummaged through the bag, chucking expired produce of gods-know-what out of the way, before finally settling on a dented can of Mulligatawny.

“Honestly,” Ohm said red-faced, shaking his head.

The crackling warmth from the fire made short work of the cold soup. Ohm and Tyler discussed their plans for the next day—oddly enough, it consisted of walking and getting back to the car for the majority of it—and then they settled on some fold-out chairs that Ohm had been carrying.

“Why exactly did you invite me out here, anyway?”

Ohm took a long slurp of soup to consider his answer first. “Am I not allowed to bond with people, Tyler?”

Tyler glared at him. That was a shit excuse. “Not sure if spreading yourself over me on a public path is bonding or not, actually.”

“I’d count it.”

“When I was in college, I definitely didn’t do that in class to get to know people better.”

Ohm’s hands got shaky. “Man, you missed out on the full college experience.”

They ate in a respectful silence for the rest of the time. Tyler clearly wasn’t getting a straight answer and might never have got one. The cutlery was dealt with by piling it outside their tent and hoping that when they woke up, it might be clean, and they retreated inside to escape the growing cold.

“Before you ruin your sleeping bag,” Ohm said, “you should change.”

“Happily, except you managed to toss them all over the floor in search of that soup. By the way—did you actually like that? I think it went rotten or something.”

“No worries, you can borrow a set of mine.”

A shot of testosterone spiked through Tyler. He tried to maintain composure by not letting Ohm see his traitorous boner again. A heap of clothes clobbered Tyler unsuspectingly. Tyler retrieved them from the floor after his delayed reaction and turned away from Ohm.

“Don’t look, asshole.”

Ohm nodded and shielded his vision with a hand, but as soon as he deemed Tyler not to be looking, he slowly lowered it. In crappy lighting and the unforgiving cold, Ohm could appreciate Tyler had a solid butt, and he raised his hand to pretend like nothing happened.

Changeover complete, Tyler spun around and unenthusiastically performed some _jazz hands._ Ohm naturally giggled at how tight and small the clothes were on Tyler, but damn if they didn’t hug him in all the right places.

“Nice package dude,” Ohm said, swiftly rolling over and faking sleep.

“Thanks, Ryan.”

Ohm winced at his name. It wasn’t normal coming out of Tyler’s mouth.

“Sure you want to keep it wrapped up?” Tyler teased.

“I don’t know…” Ohm mumbled, “it might put me on Santa’s naughty list.”

Tyler prepared to deliver his next line with the utmost confidence.

“Fuck his list, and fuck me while you’re at it.”

Ohm didn’t want to feign his sleep anymore.


End file.
